Aslan the False
by switchone
Summary: A re-telling of The Lion The Witch and The Wardrobe, where Aslan is just a myth, but the White Witch is very real. Rated M for violence, primarily.


Peter gingerly followed the lion, mesmerized by the silent great paws. The two wandered off away from the camp, to the East, outside earshot of the army. They crossed a brook on dry stones, though Peter almost tripped twice on the way. The lion waited patiently.

Only last night, Peter had first wielded a sword, fighting that damned wolf. Two nights ago, he had first come to Narnia without warning. Four nights ago, he was just another kid, living in the Professor's house outside London. Now, he had teeth marks on his arm, had taken a sentient life, and was following some manner of deity through the forest for some unknown purpose. His arm ached, still broken, though healing rapidly due to the attentions of a talented centaur girl.

_Susan cried from the tree branch, trying desperately to get higher. Peter took a sword lying nearby, letting his fury take over as he charged toward the wolf. The wolf howled, Peter slashed wildly. None hit, but the wolf backed off to lunge._

He shouldn't be alive. He wouldn't be alive except that he'd somehow realized that the magical sword that could cut through almost anything wouldn't work at all against someone fast enough to dodge.

_Thinking clearly again, Peter reached for his hunting knife with his left hand, drawing it and stabbing it in one smooth motion, just as the jaws clamped down on his sword-arm. The wolf let out a whine and a squeal, abruptly cut short as Peter slashed again with the knife, this time cutting the throat._

If something doesn't work, no matter how appealing it is, it's not going to help you. _I suppose that's kind of like the "Blacksmith's Apprentice,"_ he thought.

With great effort, he turned his attention to his comrade, leading them through the forest. The Great Lion had requested a private audience away from camp, and who would say no to that? He seemed to be some sort of limited god, here, similar to the kami of Japan; immensely powerful, though, as the beavers were fond to mention, Good, but not "safe".

Finally, as they reached a small clearing in the tightly packed trees, Aslan circled around, like a cat preparing its bed, and sat to face Peter. For a moment, Peter caught a glimpse of sadness and loneliness on the lion's face. Or was he worried?

"King Peter. Is that truly who you are?" questioned Aslan.

Peter swallowed and paused, trying not to think of twitching wolf corpses. There was nothing he wanted less than to try to measure up his life against what, he knew, was a role too honourable and lofty for him. All this was so strange and unbelievable and important and, most of all, new. He knew he'd won by luck, and now, every regrettable thing he'd done threatened to crash through his carefully constructed suspension of disbelief. He was no leader, but he couldn't simply say no.

"I - I suppose I don't really know. I really only heard the prophesy a few days ago."

"You mean you don't know?", growled Aslan, seemingly impatient. Peter froze for a moment. This wasn't the joyous lion that had greeted him at the camp one day previous. Was he supposed to know that? Maybe he was supposed to have faith in his role, after all, with magic, it was possible that faith had a power that didn't exist at home. Either way, the incrimination punched through him, leaving only a faint nausea and rush of blood from his head.

Peter breathed. For a moment, he managed to block out the trees, the lion, thoughts of royalty, and the damned wolf.

"I mean, sir, that I don't much feel like a king, or a leader, or anything. But I can't just leave, especially not with Edmund..."

He couldn't finish. Anything more would have sent him into a fit of tearful frustration, which is something one does not do in the presence of any lion.

Aslan locked eyes with Peter, then circled twice more, growling softly into the air. Peter watched warily, hoping that he hadn't made a mistake trusting this creature enough to come out to the middle of nowhere. Suddenly, Peter realized how foolish he'd been, coming here without so much as a knife for protection. Memories of Edmund, annoyed and angry, flooded his mind. _He_ wouldn't have come here without protection; he was wary of even a robin! Peter looked around, searching for avenues of escape, should he need them. No, he was trapped here.

Aslan sighed, lay down on the grass, and whispered something to himself. ("How odd, seeing the Great Lion act vulnerable. Not right at all") Suddenly, he laughed loud and joyous.

"Well, then King Peter," he pronounced King Peter with emphasized irony, but without malice, "We two frauds must make due."

Aslan shook his mane, then settled down again, laughter becoming more and more like cries.

"Oh Peter, I need your help. Peter, I'm not Aslan."

* * *

The second long journey of Erin the Wise.

After the conquering of Venhaven, word spread about the ingenuity of Erin the wise. Hearing of her arrival in his city of Nedel, a smith's apprentice sought Erin for advice, for he was troubled. She agreed to meet with him in exchange for lodging in the city for that week.

"I have apprenticed for four years, and will continue for another two, until I am ready to open my own smithy. But last month, I was contacted by my brother, who has started his own merchant company. He wants me to join him eventually, as he thinks I would be very good at the art, but I will need to say no to him. They don't need a blacksmith, and that is all I know."

Erin asked the apprentice, "Do you have a question to ask me, then, or are you telling me a story?"

The apprentice, after some thought, responded, "No, I should not have bothered you with my story. I apologize for wasting your time."

Erin then laughed, and said, "Foolish apprentice, you do have a question, but you refuse to see it! Tell me, do you want to join your brother's business?"

"I don't see how I could, but yes."

"Would you like to be a blacksmith more than that?"

".. No, I think I would be happier to join my brother."

"Then your question for me is, 'Should I join my brother right now, and give up my apprenticeship, or complete my apprenticeship, which will be useless for a merchant, and then join him?", said Erin.

The apprentice, speaking slowly, countered, "But I don't want to give up on my apprenticeship, especially since I'm close to finished."

Erin sighed, "You do not have a choice of whether to complete a six year apprenticeship or take a chance with your brother, you have a chance to get a blacksmith mastery in two years, or to be a merchant with two years of experience."

The apprentice immediately blushed at his foolishness, and said, "Yes, of course I want to have the experience of being a merchant. You must think me foolish and dimwitted to have considered differently."

Erin again laughed, "It is not foolishness I see! For we mortals must toil long and hard to perceive correctly in all things, and particularly one as devoted as yourself will naturally miss your true desire, having given four years to a different goal."

So the apprentice pondered this, and learned, and in two years, became a great merchant, happy and fulfilled.

* * *

Lucy put the book down.

It certainly seemed to make a certain amount of sense, but she couldn't quite understand Erin's last line. Erin was always so much smarter than everyone else in all these stories, but more often than not, she claimed differently. Humbleness is, indeed, a virtue, but she seemed to be giving outright excuses to all these people for their actions. Ah, well. It wasn't one of the better stories anyway.

The time since Lucy's first two adventures was spent largely reading the many, many books in the library. Many were silly stories you would give or read to your children, some were lengthy tomes about local history, and others were dry textbooks about different facets of science (much later in life, Lucy would find some of these, and discover they were actually quite good). But Lucy discovered another set of books kept apart from the rest. These were fantastical tales of cunning, the like of which she'd never dreamed of before. Each tale involved Erin the Wise, who was thrown into a situation, and who then gave a fantastic solution, detailing why that solution worked especially well.

It had been three weeks since she had first seen Mr Tumnus by the lamppost, two weeks since Edmund had lied about not being in Narnia, and three hours since it had been last brought up between the four children. Susan had said that the fresh strawberry jam they had made was the best she'd ever had, which caused Lucy to remember how good the jam in Narnia had been (magically preserved and saved for a special occasion by the faun; of course you can't grow strawberries in winter). Without much thought she said she wished she could make jam like that, causing Edmund to start jeering at her. Peter shushed him up right away, but himself took on that annoyingly concerned face, with occasional conspiratorial glances at Susan.

So Lucy had sulked down to the library just to get away from them, but soon found herself back reading those strange tales of Erin the Wise, forgetting the excitement of earlier.

* * *

Peter and Susan decided they ought to talk to the Professor. "He'll write to Father if he thinks there's something wrong with Lu." said Peter. So they found his study, and knocked on the door, and the Professor said "Come in," and immediately set some chairs round a table for all of them to sit, and sat his glass of Scotch down before taking a seat himself. He listened to their entire story, taking the occasional taste of his drink, but never interrupting, until, after much stumbling over the events, they had related the entire affair.

He stared them in the eyes for a moment, then said,

"How do you know.."

He drank a sip.

"How do you know that your sister's story is false?"

Susan looked up from the table, at which she'd been staring, glanced over at Peter, turned to the Professor, and said, "But, uh.." then paused. The Professor was serious! Why on Earth would he ever ask such a question? A million reasons and arguments ran through her brain, crashing into each other until all she could manage to say was, "Edmund said they made it up."

"And Edmund is the more trustworthy one?" questioned Professor Digory.

"Well, no, but.."

"Well, either Lucy is lying, incorrect, or telling the truth. She's not lying, so either she's incorrect or telling the truth." proclaimed the Professor.

"Incorrect?" asked Peter, "Do you mean... insane?"

"My dear boy, No! Nothing of the sort!" a shocked Digory cried, "Don't you know how easy it is to be wrong about almost anything? Every magician and clown can pull money from your ear, or saw a lady in half, and you would almost believe them, except that you've been told beforehand that it's a trick. What hope could you have to ascertain truth when you're only 10 and told nothing?"

He took his glasses off, and wiped them with a handkerchief.

"My goodness, what _do _they teach in these schools. Besides which, I, myself have seen some strange happenings in this house. She may be more right than you are ready to believe."

Peter started to ask the professor what he could possibly have seen to make him consider such obvious nonsense, but stopped himself. Really, what good would it do? If the professor was mad, then he wouldn't be much help, and, by his own admission, if he wasn't mad (and the story couldn't be true), he was lying, in which case he wouldn't be much either.

He realized the professor was still talking.

"...We might try minding our own business!"

And with that, Peter and Susan left the office.

Later, Peter went to the library, at the behest of Susan ("She looks up to you," said Susan "And it wouldn't do to crowd her and make her defensive."). He found Lucy lying on the floor, holding a book four inches from her face. They talked for a good hour, and agreed to disagree about Narnia and wardrobes and fauns.

From then on, there was a peace, of a sort in that house. Lucy would spend hours reading her stories, trying to figure out the riddle before reading the ending. After a month of this, she even got Peter to start reading them, who, while a faster reader than Lucy, never seemed to quite catch up. When, inevitably, Peter asked Professor Digory about the books, he only winked, saying, "There's true magic in those books. Not the stuff of wizards, but of normal people." (In fact, the books were not written in this world, but were recovered from some dying place, where they were meant to teach wisdom to the children.)

And so, life was uneventful for a time.


End file.
